o n e    t o u ch   o f   d e a t h
in the winter of snow, my touch lies awake
and pierce through the darkness,
waiting for warmth,
the life force I gasp for, the air I breathe
a triple shudders scream through my soul
the smell of deathly winter-fresh embrace my nostril
and sting it sharp until my pupils drip with tears
the bloodless lips gape, and silently cringes
a weak, crack voice, chokes and moans
losing unconscious, violently struggling
fearfully, beggingly, feeling black endless suffocating
my cold flesh numb, half frozen blue-meat
light fading away, the energy of a fragile life
one last warmth, the shallow sound of a breath
one last gaze, the touch of a mortal hands...